When Gratitude Comes Hard

Last week, I was talking about how hard waiting is.  It is hard.  So hard.

Then, I went into a full out Anne of Green Gables depths of despair day on Friday.  Complete with self-pity, marathon knitting and TV watching, and the bare minimum of household chores.  I didn't shower, the kids and I ate junk food, and I generally moped all day.

Knitting many many washcloths 

Knitting many many Outlander cowls

A day of pajamas and weird selfies

When Hubby left for work, I was tearfully telling him we were millimeters away from getting a puppy.  I was still mopey at dinner, but Hubby sweetly brought the girls and I pizza.

But, the trick for me is not letting it go to the second day.  Saturday morning, I got up and went to the gym and ran some errands.  I got more done before 10am than I had the entire previous day.  I also killed it at the gym.  I took all the anger/frustration/sadness of this long limbo out on that workout. 

A PR on the 2,000 meter row

I didn't know how much anger I had until it came rushing out.  It was a bit of a revelation.  Physically spent, anger spent, I returned home to get back to life.  Because it's so easy to miss out of life when you're busy looking at what you want instead of what you have.

Then, I went to Mass on Sunday and one line in the homily stuck with me: Being a saint is about letting go of what you want and trusting that God has something better.  The real zinger is the homilist was my dad the deacon (see Dad, I was listening!) :)

I've been thinking about that.  Thinking about what I have and what I want.  What I've wanted for many many years.

I've wanted children close together in age, I thought by now I'd have about five, at least.  I don't.  LB will never have a sibling close in age.  I hope that maybe someday if she's called to marriage, she'll have a sister-in-law who becomes a best friend, like my SIL who is an only child is my best friend. 

Maybe SP will still have a sibling close-ish...we've passed the "close" mark with her third birthday four months away and no sibling on the horizon. 

But here's the deal, here's the point of everything, in order to be a saint, I need to let go and let God.  Cliches become cliches for a reason. 

This week, I'm trying to be more aware of the blessings around me.  I am trying to cultivate a spirit of gratitude.  I am trying to stop looking at what I don't have and look around me.  Take the blinders off and look at this beautiful life I have.

Playing at the gym

Taking in a movie

Goofing around at the museum

This morning :)

I'm taking gratitude one morning at a time. 

Always Waiting

It's a truth universally recognized by women of low fertility who are trying to conceive that the week before you can know if this is THE month always takes longer than the previous weeks in a cycle. 

Those last few days, when a propensity to cry could be PMS or an early sign of pregnancy. When hunger could be psychological from that New Year's Resolution Diet, or the beginnings of feeding two. 

It's a maddening time. One I face with everything ranging from indifference to insanity every month. Some months the hopes are just higher, and I fall a little further when the predictable happens. 

It seems to be a prolific time among my friends.  I'm starting to lose count on how many children homeschool acquaintances have now.  I'm starting to see others filling the gap between their kids SP's age and new ones already here or on the way. 

In all that wealth, it's so easy to focus on my lack. To see only what I'm missing. 

To feel it keenly every month. 

This strikes me as a kind of purgatory. There's pain and longing, with no clear idea of how much longing, how much pain must be endured.  

And yet, I have faith it will be eased again someday, in part because I know that adoption is an option for us, but mostly because I am putting all my eggs in God's basket and trusting. Painfully, imperfectly, trusting. 

Because even when my days of children are over, I will have been open. I will have trusted. 

Until it's over, I will wait. Every month I will wait and hope. I will cry many more tears, endure many more injections to treat my hormone imbalances, but today there's hope for another day, another child. 

To remind me of why I keep shooting those shots, I need only look around my home :)

A Little Blogger's Prayer